Small Comforts
by Jem Kallop
Summary: 'Marik burrowed a little closer, closing his eyes. Bakura gave a half-smirk, his hand lifting a little to stroke through Marik's hair as he all but cradled him in his lap. "Come on," Bakura murmured, "You can tell me what's wrong with you."' Simple thiefshipping oneshot, fluff and smut.


**Thiefshipping for Caitlyn. Happy birthday!**

**Warnings: Explicit smut, some bad language**

**I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or these characters, Kazuki Takahashi does XD**

Bakura lay curled up on the couch, his knees drawn into his chest, a book lying open on his lap with a cup of tea resting carefully on the arm of his chair. His lips were pursed in thought. The text before him was one he had read many times before, though he couldn't completely place whether it was himself or Ryou that had first opened up its pages. Either way, Bakura found an odd sense of calm when reading the familiar text; a calm that he rarely exuded in his crazed, vengeful mind.

A slight buzz from his pocket distracted Bakura's thoughts. He unfurled himself from the tight ball he had rolled into, one hand reaching to carefully set the mug down on the coffee table before his other slid to retrieve his phone from his pocket. The book remained open on his lap. Bakura lifted his phone, blinking a few times to focus on the words, and realised he had received a text. He fiddled around for a few minutes, still trying to get to grips with modern technology, until he finally pressed the right button and the message popped up.

_[Marik]: I'm coming over. Don't be busy_

Bakura rolled his eyes. Of course it would be Ishtar. He curled himself back up in a ball, picking up his tea again and sipping as his eyes returned to the page, roving over the oddly comforting words. Not even his far-too-attractive-for-his-own-good Egyptian boyfriend could make Bakura stop reading in the middle of a good passage.

A short while passed before there was the sound of footsteps outside the apartment's door, so Bakura assumed that Marik must have walked over instead of taking his stupid death machine as he usually would. Bakura shifted up a little, curling up so there was space for another body on the sofa beside him, his tea placed on the coffee table firmly out of harm's way just as the knock sounded on the door. "It's open," Bakura grunted, not even deigning to look up from his book.

There was a _creak _that reminded Bakura that he needed to oil the hinges of his door, and a familiar scent soon pervaded the room, accompanied by a swish of clothing that told Bakura precisely who his guest was. He arched a brow, waiting for the shout ordering to look up from his book and pay attention like a good host should. But it never came. Instead, the cushions of the couch rippled slightly, sinking under the weight of another body, and something warm pressed up against Bakura's side. Most importantly, Marik stayed quiet.

That was the most effective way of getting Bakura to look up that Marik had so far tried.

Immediately placing the book down, Bakura turned his head and found a mess of blond hair in his face. He blinked. "Marik?"

The only response he got was a slight shifting of the cushions as Marik burrowed his way further into Bakura's side, his head hiding in the paler man's chest. Bakura's eyes narrowed a little, his arm automatically curving around Marik's back to press him closer. A small, muffled sound escaped Marik's lips.

Bakura shifted. "What's the matter?"

"Why does something have to be the matter?" Marik finally responded, his voice still hidden in the depths of Bakura's simple T-shirt. His body was so warm when curled up next to Bakura like that.

Bakura gave a low chuckle. "Because you never cuddle unless something's the matter."

"I'm not cuddling," Marik mumbled back even as he pressed himself further into Bakura's arms.

Bakura rolled his eyes, gave in, and pulled Marik fully onto his lap. One hand went into Marik's hair, gently stroking through the blond strands, his other moving to rest against Marik's hip to hold him firmly in place. Marik adjusted quickly. His head rested in Bakura's shoulder, body curled up against his chest so that he could enfold himself into Bakura's arms as much as possible.

"Sure you're not cuddling," Bakura scoffed, though he did not push Marik away. Instead, his arms tightened around the young Egyptian, cradling him closer as Bakura murmured, "Tell me what the matter is."

"Nothing," Marik responded too quickly.

Bakura snorted. "As if."

Marik burrowed a little closer, closing his eyes. Bakura gave a half-smirk, his hand lifting a little to stroke through Marik's hair as he all but cradled him in his lap. "Come on," Bakura murmured, "You can tell me what's wrong with you."

"It's nothing," Marik spoke into Bakura's t-shirt, "Just something Ishizu said."

Bakura blinked. "Your sister? Since when have you cared about what she thinks?"

"I don't," Marik responded quickly, and for the first time since he had arrived he turned his head up to face Bakura, showing his bright violet eyes. "But today she ... said something stupid."

"Everything your sister says is stupid," Bakura grunted.

Marik couldn't hold back a tiny grin, though his eyes remained a little dimmer than usual. "She's not completely stupid."

"Of course," Bakura responded sarcastically, "She just allowed her younger brother to get trapped inside a hole every day of his life despite knowing what was outside..."

"...Bakura..."

"...And then she got mad when he went crazy and tried to kill everyone," Bakura continued with a sharp laugh. "Honestly, how could she act _surprised_ that you turned insane when she was the one who brought you outside in the first place?"

"Your hatred of my sister aside," Marik responded with a low chuckle, sitting up slightly to better meet Bakura's gaze, "She did make a valid point today."

Bakura mock-gasped. "You mean she _can_ make a valid point?!"

Marik whacked Bakura's shoulder, managing a proper grin this time. His eyes sparkled. "I said, your hatred of my sister _aside_. She does tend to have my best interests at heart, or so Odion keeps telling me anyway."

"Your brother I can cope with a little better," Bakura growled, "But your sister needs to get over herself."

Marik's grin widened. "You only say that because she doesn't like you."

"Oh, doesn't she?" Bakura's eyes hardened a little and he sent Marik a glare, hands tightening on Marik's shoulders, "Because I wasn't aware she even knew I was still alive."

Marik stiffened. His brows furrowed and he stared straight at Bakura, eyes turning a little hard.

"What?" Bakura arched an unamused brow. "Have you worked up the balls to tell her about us yet?"

Marik's eyes narrowed. He pulled roughly out of Bakura's grip, sliding off his lap and onto the other edge of the sofa, staring stubbornly in the opposite direction. His arms folded, hands curling into fists.

Bakura turned to face Marik with a growl. "Stop running away from your problems. What the hell is wrong with you today?"

"I don't _run away_," Marik responded lowly.

Bakura gave a short, sharp laugh.

Marik scowled. "You sound like Ishizu."

"Now I take _that_ as an insult," Bakura growled, though he reached out and grabbed Marik's elbow roughly. "What is your problem?"

"I can't tell her about you," Marik muttered.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "So you keep saying, though I assure you she probably wouldn't care in the slightest."

"She would," Marik disagreed, and his tone almost became a desperate whine. "I know she really, _really _would."

Bakura sobered up a little at that. He sat up, placing the book down next to his now-cold tea after marking the page, before he turned back to Marik with a small crease in his brow. "Hey, what's happened?"

"Ishizu," Marik mumbled back. He curled himself up into a tight ball, looking steadfastly away from Bakura. "She told me I should think about finding a girl to marry."

Bakura went very still and remained silent.

"She seems to think having children would be 'good for my responsibility levels'," Marik continued with a bitter twist to his lips, "No matter how many times I've told her just what a bad idea that is."

"I don't know," Bakura responded evenly, "I'm sure you could fuck me hard enough that a baby comes out."

"Bakura!" Marik whined, turning back around to whack him on the shoulder. "This is a serious matter."

"And I am treating it with appropriate levels of seriousness," Bakura responded with a straight face.

Marik scowled at him.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ishtar, I know you far better than your sister does. Her notions of what your life 'should' be have always been ridiculous."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can tell her so!" Marik hollered back, his eyes almost tinged with desperation.

Bakura sent him a disbelieving look. "I fail to see why."

"Because – because – she's my sister!" Marik answered, gesticulating wildly and almost taking Bakura's eye out. "She expects certain things of me..."

"Certain unsuitable things."

"...And she is never going to change her view of me," Marik scowled back.

Bakura scoffed. "She isn't if you never tell her who you really are."

"I can't," Marik responded immediately.

Bakura arched a brow. "And why not?"

"Because I can't!" Marik ripped away from Bakura again, curling up in a tight ball on the end of the couch, his knees drawn tightly into his chest. He glared down at the ground, flinching. "It isn't as simple as it sounds."

Bakura sighed. "It's as simple as you want to make it." He ignored Marik, not going to the Egyptian this time. Instead, he reached out and recovered his book from the coffee table, opening it back on the marked page as he picked up his tea in his other hand. Even if it was cold, the drink was still refreshing.

They managed a few minutes of silence. Bakura soon got lost in his book again, the words leaping out at him, though he was constantly aware of the presence of the sulking Egyptian curled up at the other edge of his couch. Marik remained strangely quiet, which only added to Bakura's worry that Marik was certainly troubled by this issue. To Bakura, it was simple, but he knew Marik took it more to heart than he let on. Much as he might complain about them, Marik was extraordinarily close to his siblings, and he couldn't stand the thought of disappointing them. Bakura could respect that, he decided quietly, as his thoughts soon slipped back to that abandoned village in Egypt, forgotten eons ago by all but himself.

Eventually, Bakura was disturbed by something warm pressing into his lap. He blinked. Half-closing his book, Bakura peered down to see a mess of blond hair lying across his thighs as Marik curled up next to him again, setting down in Bakura's back. Bakura held back a smile. "Do you mind?"

"No," Marik muttered, curling up even tighter, "And you don't either."

"You're being exceptionally clingy tonight," Bakura answered evenly, keeping his voice gruff despite the sudden warmth running through him.

Marik pressed his head further into Bakura's lap, making the pale thief have to bite back a groan. "Yes," Marik mumbled, "That tends to happen when my sister drives me wild."

"So you mean all the time." Bakura sounded vaguely exasperated as he opened his book up fully again, returning to his reading. He did his very best to ignore the warm weight of Marik in his lap, pressed close between his legs. Marik didn't exactly help the situation, though he seemed to be completely oblivious of Bakura's growing problem. Instead, Marik shifted and wriggled several times until he got comfortable, and just when Bakura thought the slight torture might have ended, Marik decided he wanted to watch TV. This involved him sitting up and leaning right across Bakura's lap to grab the remote, almost dislodging his book and pressing an irritating amount of pressure into just the _right_ place between Bakura's legs.

Bakura growled. "Are you doing this on purpose, Ishtar?"

"Doing what?" Marik mumbled sleepily, settling his head back down on Bakura's lap as he flicked the TV on.

"I'm sure you know full well," Bakura hissed. He turned his hips a little, trying to manoeuvre so that Marik's head wasn't pressed quite so close.

Marik seemed to finally catch on. His violet eyes widened a little and he turned his head upside-down, sending Bakura a glittering grin. "Oh. Am I bothering you?"

"You know what you're fucking doing," Bakura grunted, doing his best to keep his eyes on his book.

Marik decided he didn't like that very much. With a wicked smirk, he deliberately arched his head back, pressing down into Bakura's lap.

Bakura groaned. "What is your problem?"

"Oh, I'm not the one with a _problem_, am I?" Marik snickered, his eyes bright once again as he grinned up at Bakura. Bakura merely glared back, so Marik decided to push further, his eyes never dimming. He rolled a little, almost dislodging Bakura's book. Bakura's eyes hardened, but he knew Marik never backed down from a challenge, so he merely watched as Marik hummed, deliberating before his caramel hands went to undo Bakura's fly.

Bakura hissed. "Do you really think this is appropriate?"

"With you, this is _always_ appropriate," Marik responded smoothly as he tugged at Bakura's jeans.

"You are such a brat," Bakura growled, though he was struggling to keep his voice even now. "You had better make this worth my while."

"When do I not?" Marik grinned. He tugged again at the hem of Bakura's jeans until Bakura finally relented, lifting his hips enough for Marik to tug the material down, slowly revealing the pale skin of Bakura's thighs. Once the jeans were down far enough Marik turned his attention to Bakura's boxers, eyeing the sizeable bulge there with a smirk. "I'd forgotten just how much power I have over you."

"You do not have power over me, Ishtar," Bakura responded snippily, "You just put your head in the wrong place."

"Suuuuuure." Marik's tone was about as insincere as it could get, his eyes glimmering up at Bakura with a hidden spark that Bakura never tired of seeing.

Bakura merely stared back. He wasn't going to play Marik's games, though he knew the Egyptian took a ridiculous delight in teasing him, drawing things out for as long as he possibly could. Bakura secretly loved it, loved the power that Marik had over him, but he would be damned by all the Gods of Egypt before he admitted such a thing. Marik was arrogant enough already.

Bakura's thoughts cut off rather quickly when Marik's hand went to the bulge, caressing it lightly through the thin material of Bakura's boxers. The softest of moans escaped Bakura's lips. His head tipped back, white hair spilling down across his shoulders as he automatically arched his hips up into Marik's touch.

"Ah, ah, ah," Marik tutted, his tone full of teasing playfulness that sent ripples down Bakura's spine. "Slowly. Let me do this my way."

"You always get your bloody way," Bakura growled.

Marik's only answer was a low chuckle and then his fingers were trailing across Bakura's bulge, stroking in a too-slow rhythm that drove Bakura wild. His back arched, his breathing speeding up rapidly as his hands curled in the cushions of the couch. He bit his lower lip.

Marik spread Bakura's legs, sliding down off the couch to kneel between them so he could get a better angle. His eyes were glittering, lit with an inner fire. He kept stroking until he was satisfied with Bakura's groans, and then his fingers simply stopped.

Bakura opened one eye with a growl. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Making this better for you," Marik shot back as his hands went to the hem of Bakura's boxes. "Or did you enjoy cumming in your pants?"

Bakura hissed, but before he could reply Marik had pulled his boxers down and then his hand wrapped around Bakura's shaft. The sensation of skin on skin had Bakura's back arching with a low keen.

Marik grinned. He kept his fingers still, moving to the base where he lightly caressed Bakura's pale skin, his face inching closer. His lips just kissed the tip of Bakura, eyes glittering up at him, filled with an unspoken question.

"Get. On. With. It." Bakura growled.

Marik hummed in response before his mouth opened, lips wrapping around Bakura's tip with almost painful gentleness. He started to move in a slow rhythm, sucking lightly as he went. Bakura's eyes half-lidded, his hands moving to Marik's hair where he threaded through the golden strands with a low hum of pleasure. He jerked his hips forwards, forcing Marik to swallow him deeper, but Marik was having none of that. His brown hands latched on to Bakura's hips, holding him still as he set his own pace, bobbing his head much too slowly for Bakura's liking.

"Ishtar," Bakura managed to hiss, though it came out sounding far too close to a needy moan. "If you don't hurry this up, I am going to murder you."

Marik's only response was a low hum, the vibrations almost sending Bakura wild, before he did reward Bakura by speeding up a little. Bakura closed his eyes, giving himself over to the wonderfully warm sensations. Marik was exceedingly skilled with his mouth, and Bakura had made no secret of what he liked. It gave Marik even greater power over him, but at times like this, Bakura frankly couldn't bring himself to care. He glanced down, and the sight of Marik knelt between his legs, blond hair dripping messily into his eyes as his mouth worked over Bakura again and again, was enough for the tight coil of heat in Bakura's gut to finally release. He came with a low groan, no warning given, but Marik was practised enough to swallow. He gave Bakura one last suck before letting him go, crawling back up into Bakura's lap with a huge grin. "Better?"

Bakura merely smirked lazily up at him. One pale hand lifted to tuck an errant strand of blond hair behind Marik's ear, his other hand winding around Marik's hips to pull him closer. Marik grinned and leaned down, pressing one kiss to Bakura's lips. He snuggled close with a low sigh.

Bakura pressed his face into Marik's blond hair, simply enjoying the closeness of another human being for a while, before his eyes travelled downward and he noticed a similar bulge in Marik's own pants. He always knew the Egyptian enjoyed giving him pleasure. With a low chuckle, he lowered Marik down onto his back and crawled on top of him, his own deep brown eyes lighting up. "I think it's my turn now."

Marik grinned and arched his hips, almost in offering.

Bakura wasted no time, not a teaser like Marik was. Instead, his movements were almost rough as he rid Marik of his pants and boxers, stripping him bare easily and quickly. His hand wrapped around Marik's growing hardness, stroking roughly with his trademark playful smirk.

Marik was as responsive as ever. His back arched, head tipping back against the couch as he wriggled and writhed, moaning instantly. He hated to admit it, but he could never keep himself quiet when Bakura drove him mad like this. Bakura's smirk turned into a grin, his hand stroking a fast rhythm, thumb sliding teasingly over Marik's slit as he rubbed over every sweet spot he knew the Egyptian had. Mewls escaped Marik's mouth. His face screwed up in pleasure, breath sounding in quick pants that Bakura latched onto, moving his hand in rhythm with them until he felt Marik twitch in his hand, growing impossibly hard.

Bakura leaned down, bringing his lips to Marik's jaw where he nipped softly, tracing up to his ears. "Come on," he growled lowly, breath tickling Marik's sensitive lobe. "Cum for me."

Marik gasped, biting his lips as his hips jerked upwards once and he pressed his release into Bakura's hand, spilling his essence over his fingers. Bakura grinned. "Seems I wasn't the only one with a _problem_ after all."

Marik opened one tired violet eye, narrowing it into something that might have been close to a glare. "Bastard." His arm curved around Bakura's shoulder, tugging the pale thief down to lie against his chest where Marik could hold him close. Bakura rolled his eyes but for once allowed it. His own hand traced patterns across Marik's chest, pushing the material of his shirt out of the way so he could get to Marik's brown skin. Bakura admired the contrast between them, pale white on light brown, and he couldn't stop the small smile from reaching his lips. His hand continued to trace small patterns on Marik's chest, following the planes of his muscles around to his side, and then Bakura shifted a little so his hand could edge around to Marik's back.

Marik's breath hitched.

Bakura didn't stop, his fingers daring to venture on until he met the first scar. His eyes closed. He allowed his hand to skim lightly across the patterns marring Marik's back, tracing each and every hieroglyph, barely imagining the pain Marik had gone through to have such a thing carved into his skin. Marik's back arched, his eyes closing as he bit his lower lip. He swallowed. It was still such an odd sensation to have anyone touching him there, but Gods knew if anyone deserved to feel the scars, it was Bakura.

"You could tell Odion, at least," Bakura murmured finally after several long moments of silence.

Marik blinked. "Hm?" His eyes opened and he turned his head to press a kiss to Bakura's forehead, his voice still a little shaky. "Tell Odion what?"

"About me, you dunce." Bakura's gentle tone softened the insult. "About us. He trusts you more than Ishizu, after all."

Marik was quiet for a long while. One hand lifted to Bakura's hair, lightly stroking through the long white strands, twirling them about his finger as he mulled over Bakura's words. He nodded slowly. "I ... could. I could do that."

It wasn't much, but it was enough for Bakura. He knew that Marik did not say such things lightly, and perhaps this could be their first step out of the past. Much as Bakura himself had difficulty letting things go, when he was with Marik it was much easier to remember why he had finally given up on his vengeance. He had something much more precious in his hands right now. A golden Egyptian jewel with a past as ancient as Bakura's own. Bakura unconsciously pressed closer into Marik's chest, nuzzling him.

Marik half-smiled. He tightened his arms around Bakura, holding the pale thief close to his chest. "If I could just have you ... if I could just have you, I know I can cope with anything."

"Soppy nonsense," Bakura scoffed back. But he did not let Marik go.

They remained in peaceful silence until both slid into sleep, and when they woke the next day, neither had let go of the other.


End file.
